


That Time of Year

by im_the_king_of_the_ocean



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Family Drama, Gen, found family trope, trans!Jim lake jr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16627121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean
Summary: Jim navigates the harder aspects about being trans around the holiday season with extended family who are not accepting.





	That Time of Year

**Author's Note:**

> So, after this, if I write anything holiday-themed, it will definitely be lighter in tone (and probably about Hanukkah). With this story, I wanted to recognize that it can be hard to navigate extended family relationships when you’re queer and it’s this time of year when there’s a lot of emphasis on familial love/being together/etc.
> 
> Content Note for transphobia (the character who is transphobic is Jim’s grandmother. She doesn’t appear in the story at all but the narrative focuses on how Jim is affected by her past actions).
> 
> Overall, I tried to give it a good ending, though.
> 
> (song is “I Want To Break Free” by Queen)

_I want to break free_

_I want to break free_

_I want to break free from your lies_

_You're so self satisfied I don't need you_

_I've got to break free_

_God knows, God knows I want to break free_

 

Jim listens to his mom’s singing carry through the house.  She never sings.  Not unless she’s in a particularly good mood.

Jim groans and burrows deeper under his blankets.  Guilt twists his gut up into knots.  Mom is  _happy_ , for once.  He shouldn’t take that away from her.  But, he has no choice.  Not really.

He shifts around so he’d facing his desk, and the opened letter there.  Its edges are still crumpled up from when he balled it in his fists, even though he attempted to smooth it out again.  It’s a stupid letter from a stupid person who doesn’t even like him.  He shouldn’t care.  He doesn’t care.  He.  Doesn’t.  Care.

But Mom will.

What kind of son gets his mother disinvited from the big, yearly family get-together?

A part of Jim truly doesn’t care.  His relatives didn’t exactly accept him two years ago when he came out.  They paid lip service to respecting his trans identity last year, but mainly when Mom was there to glare at them.

He honestly hadn’t been looking forward to being around them anyway.  For all their talk of how important family was, they never seemed get the importance of not calling him by his dead name or using the wrong pronouns for him.  But he’d endure them, he decided, because they were Mom’s family too and she deserved to get to be with them if she wanted.

This year though, a week ago, Jim found a letter in the mail from his grandmother.  He knew he shouldn’t have opened it—it was addressed to Mom—but its presence caused a sinking feeling in his stomach.  So, he’d torn it open and skimmed it.

Until Barbara stopped humoring her child’s deviance, neither she nor Jim were welcome at any event hosted by their extended family, his grandmother had written.  Jim set a bad example for his younger cousins.  His presence would  _ruin_ things.  Quite frankly, Jim’s grandmother was concerned about Barbara’s parenting abilities.  She was sure she’d taught her better than this.

She’s just an old, bigoted lady who’s stuck in her ways, Jim told himself and still tells himself.  What she thinks of him shouldn’t matter.  Yet.  It  _hurts_.  It’s stupid, but it hurts.  Family are the people who are supposed to be there for you first and foremost, no matter what.  Through thick and thin and all that.  

They aren’t supposed to reject you because they don’t understand you.  Sure, he doesn’t know his extended family very well (and never has).  They live on the other side of the country, after all, and their visits are seldom.  But, at the same time, a part of him—a really stupid part of him—still wants them to like him.  Wants them to think of him as one of them.

Now, his grandmother, his mom’s mother, thinks he’s…

Jim groans into his pillow.

He.  Doesn’t.  Care.

He can’t just stop being trans.  He doesn’t want to.  For the first time in his life, something actually feels  _right_.  He’s never hated himself, at least not precisely for those reasons (that was more the territory of his anxiety and long-lived self doubts), but he’s never felt good about gender either.  Not until now.  Not until he started to transition.

Why should he change himself just to fit the image of what they want to see him as anyway?  He doesn’t owe them anything.  Especially not warping himself like that.  He doesn’t need them.  He’s fine without them.

_But what about Mom?_

The thought lingers.  Sure, she loves him.  Sure, she’s defended both him and his identity.  Sure, he’s her son and she’s his mom.  But, will she still choose him over them?  Will she give up the entire rest of her family for him?

Jim wants to think she will.  She’s  _Mom_.  But, at the same time, she has a mom too, and  _that_  mom currently hates him.

Jim turns to face the wall again.  He closes his eyes in the hopes that he’ll fall asleep and not have to think anymore, but that doesn’t work.

He doesn’t hear his bedroom door move nor does he hear his mom’s approaching footsteps, but he does hear Barbara say, “Fucking  _dammit,_ ” under her breath.

Jim jerks up.  Self doubt and worries aside, he’s still a teen who just heard his parent, who makes a point of correcting _him_  whenever  _he_ curses, curse.  “Mom?”  He questions her.

“Sorry, kiddo.”  Barbara sits on the end of his bed.  Jim notes the letter is now in her hand.  “I was hoping she wouldn’t try to send something like this and that, if she did, you wouldn’t see it.”  She sighs.  “How long have you had it?”

“A week,” Jim mumbles, and hates how the words come out.  He sounds so childish.

“And you didn’t tell me?  Jim, we talked about this.”  Barbara looks at him, and then down at the letter.  “No.  I’m sorry.  If you’ve had this a week…honey, how are you doing?”

Jim shrugs.  “Yeah, um, if I say I’m fine, will you believe me?”

“Oh, come here, kiddo.”  Barbara opens her arms to him.  When he moves over to her, she pulls him fully into her lap.  She wraps her arms around him.  “You know I love you?”

“More than them?”

“Yup.”  Barbara strokes his hair.  She lets out a breath.  “You’re my son and I love you.  Sure, it wasn’t always exactly like this, but we’re family.  No matter what.  And the person who wrote that letter.”  She turns his head up so he’s looking at her.  “Isn’t welcome in  _our_ family.  Alright?”

“Yeah,” Jim whispers.  “Yeah okay.”  He lets her comfort him a moment longer before asking, “So, what now?”

“How would you like to spend the rest of the day in Trollmarket?  Apparently since the trolls were stowed away on the Mayflower, they have traditions of their own to celebrate the occasion of them coming to find the new Heartstone.  I called Blinky earlier and he said we’d be more than welcome to join them.”

“That sounds nice.”

And it was.

Particularly when Blinky gave him a four-armed hug.  And Draal “joked” that they should give his transphobic family members a trollish “surprise” that involved battle axes.  And Arrrgh!!! went out of his way to make him feel better by doing goofy things.

And Jim realized that maybe family can be your gay troll dads, your sort of brotherly ex-nemesis, the old goat of a community elder who just isn’t necessarily opposed to taking the role of crotchety grandpa, and the three half-drunk changelings who showed up the crash the party midway through but were welcome anyway.


End file.
